


Vow

by Elysionia



Series: Genesis [7]
Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Angst, College, Eating Disorders, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Past Abuse, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 12:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysionia/pseuds/Elysionia
Summary: ''Claire if all you want is happiness, say no. I’m not going to give you a couple of kids and count the days until retirement. I promise you freedom from that. I promise you, you’ll never be bored.’’





	Vow

**Author's Note:**

> Brief trigger warning for eating disorder and past traumas

 

_ Look up to  _

_ the starry sky _

_ listen _

_ when I say _

_ the most beautiful words _

_ to you _

 

_ clouds have _

_ hidden _

_ the rays of light _

_ my feelings for _

_ you _

_ shining through _

 

_ the sun _

_ won’t give us _

_ more hours _

_ in to our  _

_ shared days _

 

_ light my soul _

_ on fire _

 

.:.:.

 

He finds her sitting on the roof. The same roof he found her on that one fateful Saturday night. Today when he woke up, he had the sudden urge to return. So he rose up here to remember that small victory. That moment when both of them were untouchable. Anonymous. He hasn’t come around here in ages. Grew out of his childish hobby. Thought that she too had stopped climbing the roofs. 

 

They haven’t seen each other in months. Not since she left for Dallas. The darkness slowly creeping back inside of him. The World keeps pushing them apart. Red string of fate pulling them back together. 

 

Claire is sitting there on the edge, wrapped tightly in a jacket of grey wool. Sporting worn out white sneakers instead of her usual sensible heels. The lack of her designer armour is making her look frail and so young. Reminding him of her age. 

 

Gazing off into the distance she could be million miles away from here. Harsh wind hits his face making his eyes water. Blowing her long hair away from her face. Frank walks slowly towards her. Leather shoes clacking against the metal roof. Notifying her of his arrival. Always the one to approach. 

 

‘’I -- We had a fight. I might be pregnant. It’s too early to - -’’ shaking her head she mumbles under her breath. He can barely hear her. Words carried away with the wind. Trying to reign in her emotions she gasps for air. Her fingers pull at her hair from the roots. A seed of life is ready to grow inside of her, only to be flushed down the drain again. Death always following her footsteps.

 

He huffs out. Fucking Reed. He’s willing to march to his door and smash his head in. Throw his body down this very roof and watch his limp body smack against the asphalt. Red colouring the gray pavement.

 

‘’I didn’t jump. I didn’t do anything. Couldn’t do anything.’’ Claire sobs out fidgeting with her trembling fingers. Tendons in her neck jump up and down while trying to control her breathing. Blindsided by her overflowing feelings. Ready to take flight at any moment. First McGinnis and then Reed. How can she be so foolish to find herself in this place all over again. Having learned absolutely nothing.

 

Frank heavily plops down next to her. Looking at her reddened eyes. He gently wraps his strong arms around her. She doesn’t flinch or shy away from his touch, only leans back against his shoulder heaving slowly. Surrendering to his embrace. How he always finds her when she’s crushed by the mountain of worries. He wounds his arms tighter, afraid that she’ll break apart if he lets her go. Suffocated sobs rise out of her chest. Her tears rolling down her high cheeks. Disappearing into his jacket.

 

Three things you can hear: Francis, wind, songbirds.

 

‘’Listen. I know you hate me for saying this. You are safe with me. I am here for you. But you have to end this Claire. Your life cannot be dictated by some foolish men.  We’ll find you a doctor and we’ll get over this together. I’ll be here for you. You understand that? This doesn’t change who you really are.’’

 

He wants to promise her the World. She deserves nothing less. He swears it. Blood thirst for irresponsible men rising up, ringing in his ears. He would go and deal with the bastards himself but he’s no use to her in jail. 

 

He gingerly wipes away her tears with his sleeve.‘’ Come. Let’s go to my apartment to calm down a bit. This blasted wind is freezing.’’ Claire nods against his chest swallowing the tears collecting herself. He wraps his hand around her cold fingers and helps her up on her stiff legs. Leading them down the ladder to the staircase. Their ragged edges fitting seamlessly together like months hasn’t passed since the last time they saw each other.

 

The walk to his apartment is short. Claire is shivering from the cold and from the shock. They climb the stairs slowly while Claire leans heavily against Frank’s side. Opening the door they are welcomed by the familiarity of his home. The place smells warm, comforting, like Francis. It’s like she never made him leave. Their souls stuck in February on his couch in the afternoon sun.

 

‘’Would you like to have something to eat? I don’t have much but let’s see.’’ Frank rummages through his almost empty cupboards. Cups and glasses clinking against each other. Claire leans on the kitchen table before easing down. Frank had noticed Claire’s past struggle with food. It was subtle at first. One couldn’t notice a thing if they didn’t pay close attention to the small signs. He hadn’t asked her anything about it. Wanted to give Claire enough space and time to open up, when she felt she was ready to talk. For he knows that she knows, he has become aware of her bad habits. It wasn’t worrying him before but he notices, it’s become so much worse over the summer. Relapsing. Now after months have passed, he can feel her bones through the wool, count her ribs over the skin.

 

‘’I could make us some PB&J. Is that okay?’’ Frank turned to see ghost white Claire slumped over his table. Looking absolutely miserable. Twisting the ends of her hair around her fingers, pretending to read the papers piled on the table. Snapping out with his voice, she nods slowly to him. Biting her cheek, trying hard to find a smile: ‘’That would be nice.’’

 

.:.:.:.

 

Her stomach churns. Heart beating at her throat, her body is ready to collapse. After a week of barely eating or sleeping makes her head feel like mush. Like she’s constantly trying to swim in tar, drowning slowly. She’s ashamed of this wreck she has crumbled to in mere days. She’ll blame the lack of sleep for her tears. Ashamed that Francis has to see her like this. Has to take care of her. Pathetic. She’d dash through the door, down the stairs, if her legs would carry her.

 

Trying to chew down the sandwich feels like running a marathon. It’s a struggle to get the soft bites down her throat but she really tries, for Francis. All the stress about the history and the future has piled up and pressed her down into this useless ball of nerves. Her demons taking slowly control over her. Her path paved with wrong choices. Escaping to Texas did nothing for her. Being with Reed was a mistake. 

 

She’s been trying to push her feelings away. Keep busy as much as she can. Keep up the facade of Claire Hale, the blonde goddess. Party on the weekends. Run away from different apartments in the early hours of the morning. Cheat on Reed. Cheat on Francis. 

 

Are they even together?

 

Study. Ballet after the lectures. Running after the dance. Drifting off into the night. She has danced and danced until her nails have ripped and ran until the balls of her feet have bruised. Feeling the freedom come from the strict routines. The unbearable lightness of just being. 

 

Pain on her feet hiding away the pain in her heart. She can dance what she can’t speak of. She can run off what she can’t feel. 

 

Here she is again, with Francis. Ready for another round. 

 

He eats slowly, purposefully following the pace she’s set. Rambling about business, court cases and his dream about the state senate, trying to distract Claire as long as she needs to get the food down. He keeps tracking her expressions. Trying to get inside her head. Knocking her walls down brick by brick. She places a small piece of the sandwich on the plate, wiping her mouth on a napkin. 

 

‘’You feeling any better?’’ Frank asks her. Eyes gentle, trying to get anything out of her tight set lips.

 

‘’I can finally breathe if that’s what you mean.’’ Her joke landing flat. The usual edge missing from her voice. Eyes lifeless. Her anxiety melts away gradually, leaving only exhaustion behind.

 

‘’How are you feeling right now?’’ He tries to get through her facade. Climbing mercilessly over her walls he can’t break through.

 

‘’Better. Still a little shaky but it’ll pass.’’ She answers sincerely. There’s no use on lying to Francis. Her eyes warming back up. It’s not the first time she’s done this after all. It’s almost become a routine for her in the past months.

 

They move from the kitchen’s table to his ratty couch. Frank turns on the television to fill up the silence between them. News quietly playing on the background. Laying down Claire snuggles closer into Frank’s arms exhausted. Eating the sandwich took all her energy. Pressing their bodies together, she closes her eyes and inhales his familiar scent. Safe. Over a year their souls have become inseparable.

 

Deep inside she hates this serenity with him. How he forgives her despite everything she has done. She wants to fight him. To scream at his face, punch his chest. She wants him to hit her. Hard. To tell her what she really is. Disgusting. Instead she lays there in his arms tranquil. Listening to slow pangs of his heartbeat. 

 

‘’I can hear you thinking. Your mind is practically racing.’’ He says. Trying to get her to talk to him again, to return back to those summer nights on July. He can see through her walls and doesn’t shy away from the glacier he sees. The wreck that she really is.

 

‘’I was just thinking about the tulips you send me. In September, when I came back. I put them in a vase on my table. Next to your books.’’ She lies. That’s her second thought after anger. She doesn’t dare to admit her childish thoughts. He strokes those little circles on her hand she loves.

 

‘’How did you know those were from me?’’ Frank asks curious. Knowing about the many other suitors trying to catch Claire’s attention. About those who lie in her bed. Line of men and women curling around the block for her dainty hand.

 

‘’A lucky guess. How did you know to pick the red ones?’’ Claire hums with her eyes still closed.

 

‘’Mmhhm.’’ It were the red ones like the colour of blood. Or white. Pure and graceful, like Claire, but they somehow seemed too innocent there in his tainted hands.

 

‘’There’s this old story about a princess and a stone cutter. He falls in love with the beautiful princess but her father, the king, isn’t pleased. He makes the stone cutter dig a canal out of stone to show just how much he loves the princess. After years of digging the king lures the stone cutter into thinking that the princess is dead, so the stone cutter takes his own life. When the princess hears of her loves demise she is devastated. Crushed by sadness she kills herself to be reunited with her love in the afterlife. Legend has it that red tulips grow on where the drops of their blood hit the ground. Symbolizing their everlasting love.’’

 

Why are all the good love stories so tragic. Filled with pain and suffering. Why is pain remembered over happiness, over joy.

 

‘’It got me thinking. About us’’ Claire opens her eyes. Turning to look Francis’ now serious face.

 

‘’What about us?’’ He asks voice steady. Ready for anything. Bracing himself for the worst. Doors closing before his very eyes. Hopes and future plans suddenly trampled. He continues to stroke her hand in tighter circles.

 

‘’I always thought I was alone. No matter what I did, no matter how big of a crowd I was in, I’ve felt alone. No one could understand me. Stuck in this pedestal, in a cage with big enough bars to see everything clearly but not being able to push through. I feel weak Francis. I hate being like this.‘’ She confesses. Ashamed of her insecurity. 

 

‘’You’re strong Claire. Stronger than anyone I know. Stronger than any of those scoundreling bastards. You just have to stop this madness.‘’ He can’t go on if she doesn’t stop. Trying to fight him, he takes her hands in his and continues: ‘’I know you and I love you Claire. Even that part of you who’s so fervent on trying to bring yourself down.’’

 

It’s perverse. The way she has cut herself open. Tried to destroy the snivelling little girl in the past to get forward in life. But there’s something about Francis that calls upon that weak part of herself. Offering her bony hand through the metal bars for Francis to take. For him to pull her through to the freedom. 

 

Tears are threatening to roll down her cheeks at his confession. She feels like suffocating.  _ Love _ . Heart split in two so she could give a piece of herself for him to safekeep. So she wouldn’t get forever lost into the sea. She hadn’t thought about it before. Tried to push it down and deny herself while laying with the others.

 

He lets go of her still cold hands. Tentatively she slides her palm over Francis’ heart. Feeling the accelerated beats, anxious to hear her answer. She grits her teeth before confessing quietly: ‘’I love you too.’’

 

He wouldn’t let her fall. If she fell, they would fall down together. With or without wings.

 

He doesn’t dare to admit it, but he’s afraid. Afraid of losing her forever. In a short time, over a long period, he’s become addicted to her. He’s livid towards careless boys who think of her as a beautiful doll to play with and toss away to the next owner when they’re done. Who use her as a prop, a trophy to be paraded around. Who don’t care to listen to what her brilliant mind has to say. 

 

Is he any better? 

 

At least he is transparent with his plans. She knows exactly where she stands with him. Their relationship is based on honesty. On trust. One cannot own Claire. Or keep her imprisoned in a cage forever for their satisfaction. He promises that no one will hurt her ever again. But he’s tired of making promises to her. This is not a promise, it’s a vow.

 

‘’Will you marry me?’’ He whispers into the darkness. A Whisper so quiet it could be mistaken for a breath of wind. He can hear her eyes open, breathing shallow next to him. Awakening. She turns on her side to look him in the dark of his eyes.

 

‘’Claire if all you want is happiness, say  _ no _ . I’m not going to give you a couple of kids and count the days until retirement. I promise you freedom from that. I promise you, you’ll never be bored.’’

 

Her mouth opens and closes at loss of words. Instead she rises up to kiss him passionately. He kisses her back tenderly slowing things down. She pushes forward trying to fight him down. Catching her jaw in his hands he stops the kiss. He lifts his fingers to stroke her cheek gently. Staring deep into the rumbling sea of her eyes. He brushes his lips against hers, peppers her sharp jaw with small kisses. Nuzzling down the side of her neck making Claire whimper against his ear. He can’t help but press a kiss into the deep hollow of her neck. Trying to pour out all his love for her.

 

Laying her gently down the couch he makes love to her. Worshiping every inch of her naked skin. Kissing down her still taut stomach gently. Her needy moans feed his greedy ego. Lifting him up higher. He takes his time, making sure to memorize every part of her. Every freckle. As if he would never see her again after the break of dawn. 

 

Lying in his arms in the bed she knows he too is still awake. Can hear it from the rhythm of his breathing. Both of them unable to fall asleep. Silence and unanswered questions weighing down on them. Only the moon watching over the pair faced with a crossroad. She steadies her voice before stepping back from the edge, answering: ‘’Seven years. If it’s good, another seven and if it’s bad, then we’ll end it. No hard feelings.’’

 

He takes her hand entwining their fingers. Pressing a brief kiss on her warm knuckles.

 

‘’Deal’’

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The last part of Genesis. Stay tuned for Babel where the story continues. Feedback is always appreciated. Hit me up on Twitter or Instagram at @abyssianna or Tumblr @abyssnia . I'd love to talk more about HOC and the Underwoods.


End file.
